


Love Letters

by UltraSwagnus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Drama, Face-Sitting, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing, Valve Oral (Transformers), Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-16 22:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraSwagnus/pseuds/UltraSwagnus
Summary: Magnum Opus has been sending anonymous love letters to Ultra Magnus. With the help of his friend, Express, they finally meet face to face.But things don't go according to plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HappyGriffTime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyGriffTime/gifts).

> ok so this is a self insert dumpster fire so jot that down  
if nothing else i hope you're at least entertained 
> 
> dont @ me
> 
> Express belongs to @Happy_Griff!!!

[Part 1]

Express sucked the crumbs off of his fingers as he sat on the writer’s desk, only to shove the attached servo back into the box of energon cookies. Magnum was finishing up on his next anonymous love letter to Ultra Magnus.

“What does this one say?” the postal mech asked, shoving another cookie into his intake.

“I’m throwing this one away. It’s too...stupid.”

“Aw, c’mon! Tell me,” Expressed grinned, nudging the side of the monoformer’s arm with the pede that dangled over the desk. After a brief moment, Magnum straightened up, lifted the document off of the flat surface, and sighed.

“Ultra Magnus,” he began, “Thanks to you, blue is becoming my new favorite color.” He set the paper back down then looked at Express with a frustrated look. “This is stupid..it’s too short. They’ve all been too short. I just...I just can’t find the right words to say,” he frowned.

“Well,” Express started, “maybe you should tell him how you really feel.”

Magnum Opus gave him a puzzled look. Sure, he wasn’t the best at expressing how he felt to anyone about anything, really, but he was sure that these love letters were short and sweet enough to get his point across. Or, at least he hoped so.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked.

Express set down the half empty box of energon cookies down and rubbed his hands against each other as to get rid of any excess crumbs. He then drew a hand up and placed it as dramatically dignified as he could upon the Autobot insignia on his chest. He cleared his throat for effect.

“Ultra Magnus,” the truck spoke, mimicking Magnum’s diction, “Thanks to you, I am unable to stop touching myself.” 

Magnum stared at him with an unimpressed look as his friend choked back a laugh. The writer grabbed the box of sweets and took a cookie out for himself. 

“Ha. Ha,” he spat sarcastically. Express reached for the box next and gave Opus a gentle look. 

“I’m kidding.”

“I know,” the other replied, handing over the box.

“Just ask him out already,” Express blurted out, causing Magnum to nearly choke on his snack.

“No, I—”

Express folded his arms, waiting for whatever hot new excuse the grey mech had in store for him this week.

“—he’s probably too busy,” Magnum finished, rising from his seat.

“I’m sure he’d make time for you,” Express said. “Besides, I think you two would make a good couple.”

“You’re just saying that,” Magnum opined, walking towards his fridge. Express watched as his friend opened the door and took out two cubes of fuel grade energon. 

“I mean it,” he assured the doubtful one.

“Oh, yeah? And what makes you think we’d be good together?,” the writer questioned, handing over a cube to the mail carrier and sitting down once more. “Humor me.”

“Ok,” Express started, “you’re both into literature. You write a lot and he reads a lot. It makes sense..”

“That’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Shoosh,” Express continued. “You’re both super serious about your jobs and could really learn to relax, preferably with each other.” He raised his eyebrow plates repetitiously at Opus, who returned the gesture with a roll of the optics.

“I think I’ve heard enough.”

They took a brief moment to sip on their drinks.

“So, are you gonna do it?”

“Do what..?”

“Ask out Ultra Magnus.”

Magnum adjusted his glasses. He looked down at his words upon the page and frowned a bit. Being a writer, both professionally and as a personal hobby, Magnum Opus knew that what he wrote wasn’t for everyone. People had different tastes and whether or not he liked it, rejection came with the territory. But it was different when it came to himself and the bonds he forged with others, especially if it involved his own feelings.

He didn’t handle rejection well.

“What if,” he began, looking up at the grounder with weary eyes, “what if he doesn’t like me?”

“Why wouldn’t he like you?” Express asked, hoping to find the source of his friend’s anxieties. Magnum’s shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. 

“Because I’m a nobody,” he answered.

“That’s not true!” Express exclaimed. “You’re definitely a somebody!”

Magnum smiled a bit at that, but his worries were still unshaken.

“Maybe next week, Express,” the other said, folding the simple letter into an envelope and handing it to the truck.

* * *

_ “Maybe next week.” _

The words cycled through his mind as he drove around the Lost Light to deliver the letter to Ultra Magnus. He knew for a fact that it wouldn’t be next week. Or the week after that. Or even the week after that!

Magnum Opus was a skilled writer. However, he’d never admit to it, afraid of being pegged a narcissist. He could articulate fluently in both written and typed mediums, which is why he was designated as the ship’s editor of the weekly newspaper. But when talking to someone in person, Magnum’s ability to communicate effectively came up short, and even more so if he was nervous.

Express recalled the first time he had met Magnum Opus, those many, many weeks ago. He had been going about his day delivering mail like he always did, but on that day in particular, he had gotten a hailing request from an unknown frequency. He answered the call and addressed himself, and the voice on the other line explained that he had a letter he wanted delivered, but his suite was a bit far away from the ship’s postal unit, it being on one of the upper floors and all. It was a simple request, and Express had no problem doing it while on one of his regular mail runs.

Things started to make more sense when the truck actually saw his mystery caller. He had seen the monoformer walking around various decks on the ship every so often while he was out on a drive. But upon closer inspection, Express realized that he knew exactly who he was.

“Wait a second,” he began, “don’t I know you?”

“Um, no. I don’t think so,” the grey mech stammered.”We’ve never met before.”

“No, no,” Express corrected. “Not like this,” he said, gesturing the close proximity between the two of them. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers in realization. “You’re the guy!”

Magnum Opus kept looking around, making sure no one was able to hear this conversation.

“You’re the guy who writes for the newspaper, right? I think I’ve seen you at Swerve’s a time or two working on stuff.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” Magnum reluctantly admitted. “A-Anyway. Here’s the note,” he said, reaching into his subspace to retrieve it. The mail carrier took the letter and smiled “It’s for Ultra Magnus,” he continued, almost whispering.

Express found it weird to have someone tell him where something was to be delivered. He knew how to read addresses and identify floor and room numbers. And if he looked at the outside of this letter, he would plainly see that it—

—was blank.

“Hey, you forgot to write the address,” he stated.

“Oh, uhm, that’s not necessary,” Magnum informed, a slight heat rising onto his face. “It’s suppose to be anonymous..”

Express looked at the mech who was looking more and more bashful by the second. He grinned facetiously, realizing what this was all about. He tipped his metal hat at the secret admirer and left to deliver the first of many letters.

* * *

Ultra Magnus sat at the desk in his office and finished the memorandum he had been working on. He did his best to condense the information to avoid being too wordy, but he knew that regardless of how much or how little he submitted to the captain, it would either be skimmed over or just flat out ignored, prompting the Second in Command to issue a follow up memo. It was the same routine he was used to.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door.

“Enter,” he proclaimed.

Express walked in, the door sliding closed fast behind him. Magnus didn’t smile, but his optics sure did light up a bit brighter. He knew what this was about. It was another routine he had become familiar with.

But he liked this one.

Express smiled at the commander and pulled out the letter as he approached the larger bot. Ultra Magnus took the note that was being handed to him and opened it immediately. He read the simple sentence a few times over, analyzing each glyph.

“See you next week,” the smaller mech chimed, turning to leave.

“Wait, Express,” Magnus called out, causing the other to turn back around. A large hand motioned toward one of the two empty seats in front of the enforcer’s desk. “Please, have a seat.” 

The truck did as what was being asked, knowing full well of the interrogation that awaited him. Ultra Magnus laced his servos together and leaned forward.

“Give me a hint,” the large mech requested.

“You know I can’t do that,” Express said, gesturing a zipper motion across his lips. “Besides, I gave you a hint last time.”

“No, you gave me a fact. You said he was shy which is obvious.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” the mail mech apologized. “He’s just not ready yet.”

Ultra Magnus gave an affirmative sound, signaling for the weekly visitor to take his leave. As he was left alone once more, his optics reread the note given to him. 

He recalled the first letter he had been given. It was a short paragraph detailing respect and admiration to the enforcer. Magnus didn’t think much of it initially, but his mindset began to change after the next few letters started coming in, the next being just slightly more personal and informal than the last.

He told Express that if this was some kind of joke or a prank there would be severe consequences. After being convinced that these were genuine, he started to become comfortable with the idea that someone aboard the Lost Light liked him in a very non-professional way. He was aware of how others viewed him, but the knowledge of someone viewing him in that different way made the armored mech stand up just a little bit straighter, even if his posture was already perfect.

* * *

Magnum Opus sat at the same booth whenever he went to Swerve’s. It was in the back corner of the bar where, if one really wanted to, they could be left alone to sit and drink. Or, in Magnum’s case, sit and write, and occasionally order something so the owner of the joint wouldn’t throw him out. It was an unwarranted concern, because Magnum never caused Swerve any grief while he was there.

The monoformer typed away on his portable, dual screened datapad. He had been working on his passion project for a long time, and wrote what he could with the time he had away from his actual job. One day, he’d be recognized for his work. It was his dream as a writer.

But that dream would have to take a short hiatus, as Express came into view. Magnum closed the dual screens together and slid the device to the side as his friend sat down.

“How was work?”

“One of the main elevators was closed for repairs and I had to change my route a little. But other than that is was pretty alright.”

“That’s good,” the other replied, popping a wheel-nut into his intake. After a few crunches and a swallow, the writer’s face turned a little bashful. “Did you…?”

“I did,” Express smirked, grabbing himself a handful of wheel-nuts for himself. “And he read it as soon as I gave it to him.”

Magnum drew a servo up to his mouth as to cover it. “Did he really?” he asked, his face flushing a bit.

“Oh, yeah,” the truck grinned. Boy, did he love being the bearer of good news. Especially to his love struck pal. “I keep telling you, you should just go ahead and ask him out.”

Magnum Opus furrowed his brow at the thought, trying not to let worry overtake him as it was prone to.

“He keeps asking about you,” Express blurted out. This grabbed the monoformer’s attention immediately. “It’s true!” he continued, noticing his friend’s reaction. “Week after week he asks for some kind of hint to figure out who’s crushing on him. But don’t worry! I always make up some kind of bullshit answer to tell him,” he assured, then dumping the bar food into his mouth.

Initially, what Express had just said filled him with joy, but it was soon replaced by crippling pessimism and doubt.

“That doesn’t mean that after he sees me that he’ll still be interested.”

Express sighed. He was getting frustrated. But then, it came to him. The perfect solution. He just needed to play it cool and not arouse any suspicion from the other.

“You’ll never know unless you put yourself out there.” The postal mech yawned. “I’m gonna head to berth. That route change did a number on my pedes.”

“Alright,” the grey mech replied, pulling back his dual screen in front of him once more. “Have a good night.”

“Back atcha,” said Express, grabbing a few more wheel-nuts for the trip back to his suite.

* * *

It wasn’t often that Minimus Ambus took off the Magnus Armor, but when he did it was like a vent of fresh air. It was nice to be able to walk around and not be someone else. It was a nice break, even if a select few did know of his personified identity.

He went to the back where the actual bar was located and sat on one of the stools. He ordered his regular weak Energon Spritzer. Minimus watched as Swerve mixed his drink and placed it in front of him.

He took a sip, feeling the cool rush of liquid slide down his intake tubing and into his fuel tank. He let out a refreshing sigh. After a long day as Ultra Magnus and being cramped up inside of the armored torso, he needed this.

He looked around the place idly, taking a sip here and a sip there. The mustached mech nearly choked on his next one, as his optics focused in on a mech who was sitting alone at a booth in the corner. It was Magnum Opus, the author of one of his favorite works in progress, Nails and Hammers. He knew he was aboard the Lost Light as one of the editorial staff for the ship’s news outlet, but to see him in such a casual setting, eating wheel-nuts and having engex like any other mech...

“Now’s your chance,” a thought said. “Go over there and tell him you like his work. Tell him how real and emotionally deep his characters are. Tell him how riveting the plot has become thus far.Tell him—”

“No,” he said to himself, shutting down that train of thought altogether. “He’ll only think of me as some weird fanmech. He’s probably too busy anyway, working on the next chapter update..”

The minesweeper rejected all urges to steal a glance at the writer and focused on his drink, and occasionally watching whatever human television program was playing on one of the hanging holovids. Suddenly, from the corner of his optic, he saw Magnum Opus close his dual screen data pad and pack it into his subspace. The mech then cupped his servo against the edge of the table, then swiped wheel-nut crumbs into his palm with the other to dump into one of the empty glasses.

Minimus did his best not to swoon out of his seat as he watched the monoformer clean up after himself. His spark then skipped a pulse as he tried not to noticeably watch Magnum approach the bar where he sat and sat the empty dishes on the counter. 

Swerve came over and collected them saying, “you know you don’t have to keep doing this, right? I’ve got Ten.”

“I know, sorry. Just trying to help,” Magnum apologized. Swerve waved him off.

“It’s fine. Just try to be less considerate next time,” the bartender joked. 

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he said back, his optics being pulled into the scene displayed on a nearby holovid screen.  _ “Classic Dwight,”  _ he laughed, turning to leave.

Minimus Ambus sighed dreamily.

* * *

[Part 2]

Magnum Opus sat in a new place this evening. It was "Visages", and for some reason or another, Express had wanted to meet him there instead of at Swerve’s. "Visages" didn’t even have wheel-nuts, or anything decent to snack on, really. Only pretentious drinks and an aesthetic to match. He tapped his digits on the tabletop. Where was Express?

* * *

Express sat on the sofa of his suite feeling quite pleased with himself. His plan was finally in motion, and he only had to orchestrate his final move. He dialed Ultra Magnus’ office line and waited for the comm link to connect. He stretched himself out on his couch and got very comfortable.

“This is Ultra Magnus,” said a familiar voice.

“Hi, Ultra Magnus. This is your favorite delivery mech speaking, and I’d like to report some very unlawful activity.”

“Any suspicious or criminally dubious activity witnessed while on the Lost Light must be submitted using form code number—”

“Magnus,” he interrupted, “It’s me. Express.”

“I am aware. I have caller id. The form code number is—”

“No, no,” the truck corrected. “You were supposed to say ‘what is it?’”

There was a brief pause before the enforcer began to speak again.

“What is it, Express?”

“Your mystery mech is waiting for you at "Visages" and you haven’t shown up yet.”

“Express,” Ultra Magnus said.

“Hm?” he replied, trying not to sound too smug about what he was doing.

“I’m going to end the call now.” 

_ Click. _

Express laughed.

* * *

Magnum Opus was growing impatient. Should he call Express? What if something happened? Maybe he forgot. Or maybe something came up with work, causing him to be late. He did say that an elevator was down a couple of days ago. Yeah, that had to be it. Made enough sense to him.

He took another sip of his drink. It tasted terrible, despite it’s beautiful appearance. He had already paid for it, so he reluctantly told himself that he had to drink it.  _ “Bottoms up,” _ he thought to himself, tilting his helm to throw back a gulp. He grimaced, setting the glass down upon the table top.

* * *

Ultra Magnus strode into "Visages" with one thing on his mind. This was it. The moment of truth. All of the past weeks of receiving letter after letter, wondering about who could possibly have been sending him all those nice sentiments and vague confessions paved the road for the one moment in time.

As he entered, the large mech scanned the room. It was practically vacant, save two sparks. One was the owner, Mirage, and the other—

* * *

Minimus Ambus intake fell agape as the image of the writer appeared on the internal screen inside of the Magnus Armor.

There was no way. There was absolutely no way.

Him, of all people aboard the Lost Light? Was he the one that had been sending those love letters to Ultra Magnus? There was only one way to find out. He had to approach him.

Well, not  _ him, _ but Ultra Magnus. Which made things a whole lot easier, but emotionally a whole lot worse.

Ultra Magnus didn’t know Magnum Opus like he did. He didn’t read his work of fiction or stay up late refreshing his web page in hopes that an update would suddenly appear.

Minimus was in a predicament, and he was unsure of how to handle the situation, desperately pushing his personal bias and feelings to the side.

* * *

The armored mech walked towards the table where Magnum sat, drinking what looked to be a very unappetizing, pretentious drink.

“Excuse me,” he spoke with an unwavering voice.

* * *

The voice startled the monoformer. He didn’t realize someone had been standing there. He opened his intake to speak, but words failed him as the mech became identified through his visual recognition sequence.

It was the mech of his dreams, the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord himself.

_ Ultra Magnus. _

Magnum swooned. He screamed internally. He said the Cybertronian equivalent of “I’m gay” repeatedly throughout his neural network. Ultra Magnus was speaking to him. He recognized his existence. This was the happiest moment of his life.

“You’re Ultra Magnus,” he said like an idiot.

“That’s correct. And are you the one who has been sending me anonymous letters for almost two months now?”

Magnum optics lit up and his spark hummed with anticipation. He smiled awkwardly as he gave a timid nod. “I’m...Magnum Opus.”

“I see,” the taller mech said, looking down at the monoformer.

“Would, uh,” Magnum stammered, “would you like something to drink?” The nervous mech gestured to the empty seating on the opposite side of the table. “Or maybe something to—”

Ultra Magnus put up a hand to stop the mech from speaking further.

“Actually, I need to leave. Right now.”

“..Oh.”

As he watched his crush leave the bar, he himself felt crushed.

This was no longer the happiest moment of his life.

* * *

Express hummed to himself as he headed to the newspaper office. Magnum hadn’t contacted him since his grand scheme went into effect. He was mentally preparing himself to be thanked for his necessary deception of meeting up at "Visages" and being told every juicy detail of their date and whatever might have happened later.

He walked into the office space and asked to see Magnum, where he was then pointed towards a door in the back. He knocked, then opened the door to find the editor sitting at his desk, which was covered in datapads and loose papers among other things. Magnum looked up from his controlled chaos to see who had come in, and upon seeing Express, his face changed from a neutral one to an irritated one.

Magnum went back to work, despite Express being there. 

“What’s with the cold shoulder plate?” he asked.

Magnum remained silent for a few kliks, then said, “why do you think..?”

Express could only think of one thing. “Oh, you mean last night?”

Magnum said nothing. His expression did all the talking for him.

“Listen, I had to trick you. It was an unnecessary evil. Besides, you got to officially meet Ultra Magnus, didn’t you?” Express walked closer and lowered his voice, “He  _ did _ show up, right?”

“Oh, he did,” the monoformer spat. “And,” he continued, “he took one look at me and left almost immediately.”

Express’ jaw dropped.  _ “What?!” _

Magnum didn’t want to talk any more. He didn’t wait to think either. He wanted to sit there alone in his office and proofread unpublished news articles as he had been assigned to do. He began to shuffle papers together at random, trying to distract his mind from how he was truly feeling deep down.

The postal mech watched as his friend fumbled about with his paperwork until he stopped suddenly, made a sad face, and brought his servos up cover it.

Express did his best to comfort him in between stifled sobs.

* * *

Express put the pedal to the medal as he sped off in his alt mode straight for Ultra Magnus’ office. Energon boiled in his fuel lines, and his tires screeched as he drifted past corridor corners. If he made a mark on the floor, so be it.

He slowed enough to transform onto his feet, and scowled at the plaque that read the Second in Command’s name. On the metal door he knocked twice with disdain. He waited courteously for a few seconds before storming in.

Ultra Magnus, seeing who had come in, was conditioned to believe he would be receiving another letter, but in light of recent events and the look on Express’ face, that was not the case.

“Express—”

“What the  _ HELL _ is wrong with you!?!”

Ultra Magnus was taken aback by the sudden outburst.

“Wh—”

“I worked my aft off,  _ WEEK _ after  _ WEEK _ trying to get Magnum to talk to you. I told him how you kept asking about him, asking for  _ HINTS _ , just to give him what little bit of encouragement I could offer but he wouldn’t take it. So I tried to set you both up and  _ WHAT DO YOU DO?” _

Ultra Magnus said nothing.

“That’s right! Not a damn thing. Even worse, you just walked away from him! Left him sitting there feeling like...like…!”

“As if he was  _ small..?” _

“HA! Yeah, not that you would know what that’s like, walking around, towering over and policing everyone on the ship. Y’know,” Express continued, “I questioned Magnum’s taste in mechs after he officially told me he had a thing for you. I’ve heard what people say about you, and I just didn’t get it. But the way he talked about you…” the truck shook his head in disappointment. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my ventilation.”

There was a tense silence between the two. Express waited for an explanation of sorts, while Magnus waited for the other to storm out as quickly as he had come in.

“There’s...someone else involved in this,” the enforcer confessed.

Express was speechless.

But not for long.

“You mean to tell me that the reason you turned him down was because there’s  _ another mech?” _

“Not for me,” the other clarified, “...but for  _ him…” _

Express crossed his arms and raised an optic plate. “I’m not following.”

Ultra Magnus sighed as he stood from his chair. “Promise me that you will keep this between us.”

“...Okay.”

The optics of the armor faded to black, and the head and arms slumped. Express was horrified at the sight, his primary thought being to call a medic, but he continued to watch as the torso split open like a pair of double doors. Before him now was what he could only describe as a cockpit, with a mustached mech inside staring back at him.

* * *

Magnum Opus sat at his desk in his suite, staring at the blankness that his dual screen provided. It had been a short while since he had updated his passion project, but he just wasn’t feeling it. Too much, in his opinion, had been going on and affecting him emotionally for him to write anything. He wanted to write, he really did, but his lack of eating utensils forbade him from doing so. 

It happened more often than he would have liked to admit. Those long days at work and the emotional ups and downs of life certainly put a strain on any writer, and this one certainly knew that. Despite these things, he’d always try to do something. Maybe a sentence, a paragraph, if he was lucky.  _ Something _ .

_ Anything _ .

He knew deep down in his spark that there was at least one person who read his works and genuinely liked them. There had to be. So, in the moments where he had no drive to go on, he would think of that one person, whoever they were, and found himself able to write just a little bit more. 

Magnum began to type after sitting for a while, attempting to break out of his creative slump. Words appeared, then a sentence or two, and soon he found himself writing again.

Then he began to receive a comm request from Express, and his concentration became broken. In all honesty, he didn’t want to talk to Express. Express reminded him of a certain someone that made him feel a certain way now.

Magnum wanted to forget about everything that had been happening recently, so he ignored the call, and tried to go back to writing.

But then another ping came through.

And another.

Opus sighed, and accepted the call.

“Yes, Express?” He sounded tired.

“Are you in your room?” the truck asked hurriedly. “Please tell me you’re in your room right now.”

“Yes,” the monoformer answered. “I’m writing.”

“Great!! I’m headed over right now!”

The link disconnected, leaving Magnum feeling very confused.

* * *

“You’re gonna need to sit down for this,” Express said as he entered his friend’s room.

“I already was, but ok,” the other said.

“I know you’re doing your writing thing but this is important,” the truck emphasized.

Magnum sat down at his desk and turned his chair to face Express, who was digging around in his mailbag with the biggest, goofiest grin.

“I don’t like that face you’re making,” Magnum said half-seriously. There was no telling what he was about to pull out.

“You’re gonna love this! I just need to...aha! Got it!” he exclaimed, taking out what looked like an ordinary letter. He gave it Magnum, who opened his mouth to question what it was, but was immediately cut off.

“Just open it,” the excited mech said, sitting himself on top of the writers desk as he always did.

Magnum did as he was asked, and pulled out a letter comprised of some handwritten notes. His optics scanned them over and grew wider about halfway through. Someone had written in great detail what they thought of his writing, his plot, his characters, just about anything he had done in regards to his career as a freelance writer.

“Oh. My _ god.” _ Magnum looked up at Express. “Who wrote this?!?”

“Hmm,” the other hummed mirthfully. “Can’t say. I’m not allowed.”

_ “Express.” _

“My lips are sealed and my hands are tied. You know how it is.”

“Is it Magnus? Oh, please tell me it’s Ultra Magnus!” his face lit up at Express, who was trying to formulate a response that wasn’t too blatant or technical.

“Uhhh, no. It’s not him,” The mail mech answered. “It’s someone else.”

Magnum looked back at the letter he had been given and reread a few lines, thinking about this whole situation. Something was off. There was something Express wasn’t telling him. There was a missing piece to this puzzle, and Magnum had to take matters into his own hands. He took a piece of parchment and a pen from his stationary set and began to write a thank you note.

It was a very heartfelt note of gratitude. He poured his spark into it. Whoever this person was, this was the one. This was the one person he had been writing for all this time. Magnum’s hand zoomed across the page, hoping that after he was done the glyphs were still legible. Was it acceptable to say “thank you for your kind words!” a million times? Probably not, so Magnum only said it a few times.

And it was here that Magnum Opus finally learned what the happiest moment of his life was meant to be.

* * *

Express sat in a reclining seat in Minimus’ suite sipping on some very hot energon tea that the load bearer had made for him. As he enjoyed his beverage, he watched the green mech read over this week’s letter from Magnum Opus. They had been exchanging letters on a weekly basis, and once again, Express was caught in the middle of it. At least in this instance, things were much less one sided.

After Minimus had finished reading his new letter, he pressed it into his face.

“What did  _ this one _ say?” Express asked.

“He said he enjoyed reading over my character analysis of Crowbar and would love to talk about it in more detail in person,” he gushed behind the piece of paper.

“Sounds like a date to me,” Express stated, sipping his tea. Minimus let out a sound of disbelief.

“I don’t think think he meant it that way.”

“Want me to call him and ask?”

“No.  _ Absolutely not.” _

“Alright, fine. I guess it’ll have to remain a mystery,” he said in a sarcastic, disappointed tone. He drew up his cup for another sip of his drink.

“Ultra Magnus is going to ask him.”

Express coughed as he nearly choked on his energon. Minimus folded the letter into his subspace and went over to the Magnus Armor that was sitting slumped over against the wall. The postal mech sat down his drink as he watched the other crawl into the chest cavity cockpit.

“Magnus?!” the now smaller mech exclaimed.

“Yes,” said Ultra Magnus. “This is the easiest way, for Minimus,” he explained. “And I believe I owe Magnum a personal apology.”

“Ok, well,” Express began, “before you go, I’m gonna need some more tea.”

* * *

Magnum Opus was having a normal day at work today. It was a good day. Everything was running very, very smooth. Articles were being turned in on time and there were few errors he was having to correct with this week’s Lost Light Informer.

Magnum was in a good mood, and decided that he should call up Express and invite him out to some drinks. They had both been fairly busy from their respective jobs and could use some time together to catch up, aside from the usual weekly letter exchange.

As he was about to dial the mech’s personal frequency code, a knock came at the door. Express would have to wait a little bit. This could be important.

“Come in.!”

And it certainly was.

Ultra Magnus entered and stood before the grey mech, who sat at a desk cluttered with datapads and papers. It bothered him greatly.

“U-Ultra Magnus,” the writer stuttered, trying to straighten up his work station. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, there is. But first, I would like to give you an apology, for my behavior from our..first encounter.”

“Oh,” Magnum said, trying not to remember it. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. There are things you don’t know, that can’t be said here and now, but there is an explanation for it.”

Magnum gave a puzzled look, unsure about how he should respond to such a cryptic message.

“I need you to clarify something for me,” the enforcer continued, taking out the letter that had been sent to Minimus Ambus earlier that day. He threw it down upon the desk, and Magnum picked it up, soon realizing what it was.

With a pointed finger, Magnus said. “I need you to explain that last line for me. The one that reads—”

“Are you the one who...” Magnum interrupted, heat rising into his cheek plates.

“No, I’m not the person you’ve been writing to, nor am I the person who’s been writing you back. I’m his representative, and he needs to know what your meaning was at the end of that letter.”

Finally, everything started making a little bit more sense.

“So, that night at "Visages"..”

“Realizing it was you, I had to disengage. It would have complicated things between your secret admirer and myself.”

“I see,” Magnum smiled pensively.

“Please answer the question.”

“Oh, right. Um…”

Magnum took a moment to reread what he had written.

“You said that you would love to talk more in detail about your character Crowbar in person with him. In what way did you mean that?”

“I..” Magnum blushed from being put on the spot like that. “What does he think I meant?” he genuinely asked.

“He’s unsure.”

The editor fidgeted with his digits and looked away from the larger mech’s gaze.

“Does he think I was asking him out…?”

“Perhaps.”

“Would he...say yes if I was?”

“Perhaps,” Ultra Magnus stated again. “That would depend on if you were or not,” he added. “Were you?”

Magnum’s blush deepened.

“... _ Perhaps.” _

“He’ll be at "Visages" tonight after the evening shift ends. Don’t be late.”

* * *

Magnum Opus had never used so much wax in his entire life. Express laughed as he helped him gloss over those hard to reach places on his back plates.

“Lookin’ good,” he said, trying to bolster the writer’s confidence.

“I sure hope so,” the other said, looking at himself in a body length mirror. “I need a paint job.” He then turned to Express. “Do you think he’ll notice?”

“Notice what?”

“The chipping...the little cracks…”

Express rolled his optics.

“You look fine. He won’t notice, and even if he does I promise you he wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“What if he doesn’t like the color green?” he worried, looking at his accent colors.

“Oh, I don’t think he has a problem with the color green. Trust me.”

“Hmm..”

“Stop worrying. You’re going to have a great time, I’m sure of it,” he assured him, closing the lid to the wax canister. “All done,” he announced. “Now, go get ‘im, Tigertron.”

* * *

Minimus tapped nervously against the tabletop as the seconds went by. Part of him wondered if he would get stood up. He cursed at himself. What if Ultra Magnus had been too forward and scared him away? Was he rushing things?

Minimus pinched the bridge of his nose out of irritation. What if this had been a mistake?

* * *

The door to "Visages" opened and Magnum Opus walked in. His optics scoured the room. Of course fate would dictate that the moment he was to meet his secret admirer, "Visages" would be busier than normal. There were several mechs in different places drinking and chatting. Some sat alone while others had company. Magnum didn’t know where to go, so he stood there awkwardly, wondering if the person who was waiting for him was actually there.

Then, he saw a mustached mech slide out from the booth he was sitting at and walk towards him. He was about a head shorter than he was with green an white coloration. He laughed to himself, remembering his conversation with Express.

“Magnum, It’s good to finally meet you,” the mech said, extending his servo. “I am Minimus Ambus.”

“I see you’re familiar with Earth gestures,” the other stated, returning the handshake.

“I am,” he admitted, not wanting to go further into it. “Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the table he had appeared from.

Mangum smiled and nodded, his tank full of organic, flying insectoid creatures.

* * *

They talked for hours and hours until Mirage asked them to leave. Apparently the pair had been loitering without ordering anything, and that went against policy. But in their defense, there wasn’t anything really good to order to begin with.

“We could go to Swerve’s,” Magnum suggested, trying to keep the mood up. He was enjoying the time he was spending with Minimus and didn’t want the evening to end so soon.

Because anything after hours of non-stop, back-and-forth conversation was still considered too soon.

“Hmm,” Minimus thought for a moment, weighing some pros and cons. He then looked at the taller mech who was walking next to him down one of the ship’s corridors. “Let’s go back to my suite.”

_ “His suite?” _ Magnum thought to himself, a faint heat resting on his face.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he assured the other, who had noticed his sudden redness. “There’s something I need to show you.”

_ “It’s his spike,” _ he could hear Express say.

“Or someone, actually,” Minimus continued.

_ “Threesome,” _ imaginary Express said.

Magnum shook these thoughts out of his head as he followed the smaller mech to his habsuite.

* * *

The writer’s optical sensors rebooted and came online slowly, his vision gradually changing from blurry to clear. The back of his helm and his lower linkages were pinging his internal systems with minor damage reports.

“Oughh,” he groaned. He sat up, finding himself to have been lying on Minimus’ couch with a blanket placed on top of him. Minimus was nowhere in sight, and the only thing he could see was a cup of energon tea that had been sitting on the table next to him. Figuring it was his, the monoformer took it and began to drink. It was delicious, and much better than anything "Visages" could have offered. 

“I’m glad to see you still function,” said a voice from behind. Minimus came into view and sat in the reclining chair next to the sofa. Magnum straightened up as best as his mysteriously sore body would allow.

“What happened?” Magnum asked groggily. 

“I showed you the Magnus Armor, you said ‘Oh, my god! You’ve killed Ultra Magnus!,’ and then you fainted.”

Embarrassed, the grey mech covered his face with a servo.

“Oh, geez..”

Minimus laughed. “It’s ok. Everyone has a different reaction to it. Yours just happens to be the most extreme.”

Magnum sighed. “Well, that’s just prime.”

Minimus then began to explain the Magnus Armor and his role as the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, shedding light on the missing piece to this puzzle.

“Wait a second,” Magnum began, “do you mean to tell me that all this time...I was writing those pitiful love letters to you and not Ultra Magnus?”

“Technically, yes. But while I was in the armor I had a part to play.”

“I see,” the other replied, sounding a little disappointed.

“However,” he continued, “the things you wrote to him made me change his character just slightly enough to make him more personable. No one really spoke to Ultra Magnus the way you did in those letters.”

“Oh, well,” the other stammered, “I just...I never really knew what to say in those,” he admitted.

“Magnus always liked them,” Minimus affirmed. “Especially that last one.”

Magnum couldn’t help but laugh.

“It was only a sentence, and a cheesy one at that. But, if it means anything,” he said, looking at Minimus, “green has always been my favorite color.”

The minesweeper blushed.

* * *

Minmus walked Magnum back to his room, the two mechs taking the longest way possible on purpose. They had talked a lot that evening, so the trip was a quiet one. Neither one of them minded, as they laced their fingers together in a tender grip and that spoke loudly enough.

“This is it,” Magnum said as they reached the door, parting hands in the process. He turned to face the other.

“I had a really good time with you this evening, Magnum,” Minumus said, smiling up at the taller mech.

“I did, too,” Magnum admitted openly, despite his nervous tick coming online. He grabbed at his hands and gave them firm squeezes.

“Nervous hands?” the minesweeper noticed.

“Oh, y-yeah. It happens sometimes,” Magnum confessed.

“I have a fix for that,” the other said, extending one of his own.

The monoformer was hesitant at first, but gradually moved a servo to Minimus’. The green mech held it gently and put it to his lips, planting a kiss upon it. Magnum’s faceplates reddened as the load bearer did the same for the other one.

“Is that better?” Minimus ask, finding his own face growing warm.

“I, uh, think you’ve made things worse,” Magnum stammered, avoiding optic contact at all costs. “Now my lips are nervous..”

“Oh, I see,” Minimus replied, fidgeting with the decorative metal fixed above his upper lip. “So are mine..”

“I could fix that,” said the grey mech, with a grin.

“I was hoping you would,” the green mech said, rising up on the front of his pedes.

Taking the hint, Magnum leaned down, his sparking racing faster than a Velocitronian, and kissed Minimus Ambus. They pulled apart and looked at one another, content with where they stood.

Minimus decided that green was also his favorite color, too.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's just porn. that's it.

Ultra Magnus braced himself against the wall of his office to support himself. He found his strength failing him as the spectacled mech at his waistline manually examined his spike. Magnum ran his servos along the shaft of the flexible metal, feeling every seam and sensor. The armored mech’s spike throbbed within the hands that glided up and then back down the shaft again. Ultra Magnus groaned deep from his vocalizer as his spike finally pressurized to max capacity. He exvented, being notified through his array’s internal messaging system that all sensors were online and ready to initiate full arousal protocols. Upon seeing the glowing optics of his courtmate staring at his member from below, he authorized the sequence immediately.

Magnum’s visual inputs grew hungry as the large spike in front of him began lighting up. He looked up at Magnus who gritted his dentae. Magnum smiled. It was good to see Ultra Magnus relaxing a little bit.

His attention was taken back to the spike that he was still stroking, as the head began to drip a hearty amount of pre-fluid. Before it could make it down any farther, Magnum trailed his glossup upwards on the underside of the appendage, taking extra care around the node closest to the head. Ultra Magnus jerked his hips at the sensation.

“M-Magnum,” he huffed, “do  _ that  _ again.”

And so the smaller mech did, giving another firm lick to the underside of Ultra Magnus’ spike. He took his time running his glossa over each sensor on the spike, enjoying the groans that the larger mech sang in response. Reaching the large node at the head of the spike once more, Magnum kissed it, sucked on it, and licked at it in that order. The repetitious cycle the monoformer was subjecting it to almost brought the Second in Command to his knees.

_ “Oughhh, Magnum, I…” _

The writer gave another kiss to the spike.

_ “Yes?”  _

The larger mech didn’t hesitate to respond.

“I want you to perform oral interfacing on me.”

Magnum sighed.

“I’m sorry, Ultra Magnus,” Magnum began, “but you know I only understand  _ slang  _ during situations like this. Can you repeat that, please?”

The genuineness of the grey mech’s tone was a facade. He knew that the nerdy looking twunk wanted to hear him say something  _ vulgar  _ and  _ indecent _ . 

It was the hottest thing the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord had ever witnessed.

Impatient, Magnum began sucking on the large spike node, making the legs that stood in front of him tremble.

“B-Blow me..!” Ultra Magnus finally choked out, trying to maintain his composure.

The smaller mech grinned as he began to insert the head of Ultra Magnus’ spike into his intake. The nodes grazed against his glossa as he pushed himself further down upon the mass. Magnus threw back his helm and groaned loudly into the hot atmosphere.

As the monoformer bobbed his helm, he firmly grasped the spike with a servo to stimulate what wasn’t able to fit in his mouth. The other hand reached the base of Ultra Magnus’ spike housing, where he gave the underside of it a gentle tap. He could hear the sound of additional plating retracting. He cupped his hand as the two protoform spheres descended into his touch. They were large and warm, and Magnum could feel the transfluid that had been built up into them. He gently squeezed and tugged at them.

Magnus moaned as his mechanical jewels were given attention. Swiftly, he drew up a servo and clamped down on a knuckle joint as he felt fingers touching the delicate sensors that lied behind his bearings. His array pinged him again. It requested his interface equipment to receive faster stimulation. It sent an authorization request for his hips to thrust. He denied it, unwilling to cause any damage to Magnum’s intake.

_ “Mmmm...Magnum,” _ he hummed.  _ “I need release.” _

Magnum quickened his pace and created synergistic rhythm between his mouth and his hands. As a response, the larger mech placed his freehand behind his courtmate’s helm as he gently thrust himself, surrendering to the demands of his array. Magnum continued to stimulate the various sensors on the spike and behind the bearings, the latter now hanging more closely to the Magnus’ frame.

Magnum hummed in delight as he felt the spike in his mouth becoming firmer, indicating that Ultra Magnus was close. The vibrations of the muffled sound traveled along the erect metal finally pushed the blue mech over the edge.

_ “Oh!! ♥️ I’m arriving!!”  _ he shouted, spilling his fluid into Magnum’s intake. Ultra Magnus roared as he climaxed, offlining his optics in the process. Magnum could feel the large load travel from those swollen bearings and down his intake tubing in fast spurts. 

The spike began to lose pressure, and Ultra Magnus removed himself clumsily, causing some remaining transfluid to paint Magnum Opus’ lip and chin. The large mech sank to his knees and panted hard as his cooling fans came online. He looked at Magnum who smiled at him with a loving look.

“H-Hold still,” Magnus instructed, taking out an embroidered handkerchief from his subspace. With a shaky hand, he wiped the excess fluid from the other’s face. Magnum grabbed the cloth-clutching servo and held it, eventually kissing one of the fingers.

* * *

Magnum’s optic’s flickered as Ultra Magnus’ glosses slid between the protomesh folds of his valve. Every so often, the glossa would go far enough to tease at his anterior node, but not firmly enough to give adequate pressure.

_ “Magnus,” _ he whined,  _ “please,” _ he begged, attempting to grind himself on something that wasn’t there.

Magnus said nothing as his face was being sat on. One of his servos gripped at the side of Magnum’s hips, preventing him from moving, while the other held the smaller mech’s arms behind his back. Opus was completely at his mercy. He squirmed and struggled, but he was no match for the gentle force that held him captive.

_ “Aughhh,” _ he moaned, feeling a wet piece of metal prod it’s way into his valve’s opening.  _ “Oh, god, Magnus!! Just take me!” _ he cried out.

Ultra Magnus lapped up the fluid that leaked out of the port, savoring the taste. He could feel his spike pressurizing inside of his array as he continued his endeavors. He switched tactics once again, going back to those long strokes that just did manage to touch that neglected emerald.

Magnum trembled as the tip of his courtmate’s glossa once again teased the outer rim of the sensor. But this time, it went further, and began to lavish the piece with oral affection. Still being held in place, he could only thank Ultra Magnus over and over for such generosity.

He released his grip on the monoformer’s arms and brought the remaining servo to the other’s hip, where he was able to adjust the exposed equipment closer to his intake. Magnum, now with the freedom of  _ some  _ movement, found his hips being more firmly locked over Ultra Magnus’ mouth, to which he had no complaints. 

And then Ultra Magnus started to suck on that sensitive gem and Magnum Opus found himself in need of support. He leaned forward, grabbing the cylinders on the side of the other’s helm like handlebars and braced himself. His optics flared as his overload was being sucked out of him, and he cried out the enforcer’s name as he came. The hands around his waist weakened as Magnus’ own overload began to overtake him. His spike was pressed hard against the inner wall of the array paneling, and it let off thick, sticky ribbons of transfluid. The seams of the spike housing started to bubble with the fluid that escaped from the climax.

Ultra Magnus’ arms slumped to his sides as he recovered from his overload, and Magnum slung a leg over and dismounted from his favorite seat. They both existed together in a quiet moment, simply enjoying the other’s company as they took a short rest.

* * *

Desks were used for academic purposes. They were used to study, organize, prepare, and strategize. But Minimus Ambus found another use for a desk, as he was on all fours upon it with Magnum Opus behind him.

The load bearer held in a ventilation as he felt the entrance of his valve widened by the girth of a spike. Magnum inserted himself slowly out of courtesy. After the entirety of the length was inside of the receiving mech, he paused, giving the other time to acclimatize to his size.

“I need a moment to—”

“Take your time,” Magnum said, enjoying the view. He took the opportunity to lean down and plant a few kisses across the minesweeper’s back. Minimus sighed at the sensation. With his panel open, the green mech took the initiative to rub his node.

Magnum could feel the calipers around his length hold him in place, and the mesh lining of the valve releasing more lubricant. His spike throbbed. It was ready.

Minimus could feel the eagerness that filled him. He hastened the swipes he was administering on the sensor’s surface. He didn’t want to keep Magnum waiting. 

“You don’t have to rush,” the other assured him.

“You’ll lose pressure, otherwise,” was the reply.

“Then allow  _ me.” _

Magnum took two digits into his intake and coated them with oral solvent. He reached under Minimus’ frame and nudged the hand that was already under there, signaling for it to be replaced by his own. Minimus Ambus sank onto his forearms as his anterior node was given gentle circles. His hips moved forward involuntarily, pressing himself harder against Magnum’s fingers. The grey mech continued, enjoying the back and forth rocking from his partner's hips.

_ “Mmm, Minimus, I love how tight you are,” _ he cooed.

The minesweeper flushed at the words being spoken to him. 

_ “.. _ Keep talking to me, Magnum,  _ please,” _ he begged, being notified from his array system that his overload was in process.

_ “You feel so good to me,” _ he began,  _ “I’m going to dump so much fluid into you.” _

_ “Ohh, yes!” _ he moaned, feeling the sensation on his anterior node switching from circles to a sweeping motion.  _ “Just like this!! ♥️” _

Magnum could feel the calipers clamp down on his spike as he coaxed an overload from Minimus’ array.

_ “Overload for me, Minimus Ambus,” _ Magnum said. The green mech shot a servo back under himself as the climax began, grabbing the monoformer’s hand and pressing it as hard as he could against himself.

_ “Magnum!” _ he called out, humping Magnum’s hand like a turbofox in heat. Magnum bit his lip and groaned as his spike was being squeezed by the tightening protomesh that surrounded it. He just had to wait a little longer, then he would have his turn.

Magnum placed his hands on the other’s hips, feeling the soft humming of cooling fans activatedinside of his partner’s frame. The calipers around his member had loosened their hold after the climax had ended, leaving the port easier to penetrate.

“G-Go ahead,” Minimus had, inhaling air sharply through his intake. Upon hearing the command code, the monoformer pulled himself out, his spike coated in transfluid. He pushed himself back in with a grunt, repeating the two actions in a consistent cycle. The sensors that lined his spike rubbed against wet and warm mesh fibers and sent pleasure notifications directly to his brain module. Feeling a bit selfish, he increased his pacing, quickening the rate in which his spike received it’s stimuli. The writer sang a chorus of orgasmic sounds as he got himself off, changing his angle to increase his own satisfactions.

_ “THERE!!” _ Minimus managed to shout before his vocalizer short-circuited into garbled static. He saw a series of stars flash before his vision scanners as the mech behind him slammed into his ceiling node cluster. Magnum listened to the inaudible sounds the green mech on the desk uttered as he thrust repeatedly into him. His array pinged him. He was approaching a spike systems overload and it was approaching  _ fast _ .

_ “Oh, Magnum!! ♥️ I’m going to overload again!” _ the other cried, reaching his hand underneath himself once more, vigorously rubbing himself. Magnum could feel the calipers begin to clamp down and contract around his spike as he continued to penetrate through them.

“Minimus!! I’m—!”

_ “Aughhh!! ♥️” _

Magnum Opus gave a final thrust, pushing himself as deep as his frame would allow inside of the shorter mech. His array magnetized itself to the other’s aft as his lower transfluid tanks flushed their contents out of his spike and into the mustached mech. He huffed as the final release of his transfluid left him. By then, Minimus had already finished his second overload and collapsed onto the desk’s surface. Magnum began to remove himself, and a mixture of their fluids dribbled out of Minimus’ spent valve and onto the furniture.

“What a mess,” Magnus laughed, retracting his depressurized spike back into it’s housing.

  
_ “Mhmm ♥️,” _ was the answer he got back.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry if any of the canon character are written ooc...i did my best orz
> 
> chapter 2 is gonna be pure smut, which i'll get to eventually lmao


End file.
